That's Interesting
by portia delanuit
Summary: A LOTR crossover with POTC! Post war Gondor, a ship with black sails appears in the city port of Pelargir. Miles upriver, Faramir, Captain of Gondor is unaware of the threat. But soon, the world of LOTR is about to be turned upside down
1. Default Chapter

**That's Interesting:**

**The further adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow **

FANFICTION: LOTR/Pirates crossover.

Disclaimer: this is a fanfiction based upon characters and situations used in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Carribbean. I don't own any of the characters mentioned, nor the locations and setting used in this story.

Synopsis: Set in Gondor, just after the War of the Ring. In the city port of Pelargir-on-Anduin, a mysterious ship with black sails makes its way into the harbour. Miles upriver in the rebuilt city of Osgiliath, Faramir, Captain of Gondor, is unaware of the impending danger. But his life is about to be turned upside down when a charismatic, lost and possibly insane corsair swaggers in _en route _to Tortuga and causes no end of havoc. With more important matters to concern the king of Gondor, it is up to Faramir to keep the situation under control.

Chapter One

The sun was sinking to the east of the reclaimed city of Osgiliath, and the few people who had returned were making their way homewards, but Faramir, Captain of Gondor, walked alone through the pale streets, quiet in the early evening. A warm breeze was sweeping in from the south, carrying on it the seeds of the grasslands that covered the great plains from here to the coast. There lay the mysterious city port of pelargir, the abode of ruffians and corsairs from across the sea. The last remnants of Saurons allies, scattered and cowed for a time after the Great War now had returned to Pelargir like rats. After the destruction of so much in Middle Earth, the mercenary plague remained, just a days journey down the great river. And, so close to that sinister malice, Faramir was restless.

In his heart, Faramir knew he was no soldier--just one of the countless who had been willing to give his life for the country he loved. But even with the return of the king, Gondor was not yet free from peril, and above all he knew that his duty was to his country, no matter what the cost. The day would come, he felt, when the parasite would turn predator, and then the people, _his _people, would be placed in danger once more. And that was why Faramir had requested permission from the king to return once more to Osgiliath to ensure its continued defence while the people returned to rebuild the city. And the king had granted him leave from his court. The greatest hardship, and onethat played forever on his mind, was his absense from the woman he loved.

Eowyn, the white lady. In these last days before his return, he saw her before him more and more often. At night, he dreamed of her quiet touch to his face and saw her pale face, her bright eyes shining as they had the moment she first said thst she would be his. And in the day, in those quiet times when his musings took him back to moments such as this, he felt his heart ache, and he would give anything to be with her once again.

Now, as the light began to disappear from the world, and the golden sun vanished, he found his thoughs once more upon his lady, and he wondered what she was doing at that moment. Was she thinking of him? Was she sitting in that lonely room in distant Minas Tirith, and looking out to Osgiliath, shining like a pale jewel in the fading light?

He found that his wanderings had brought him to the top of a winding stair, and now he stood at the height of the city, looking over it's turrets and spires, rising higher with each day. And, beyond the scaffolds and smoke from the few homely fires, the river carried his gaze far away, to the horizon, to the sea. On the horizon, a dark cloud hung. Despite the warm summer air, there would be a storm tonight.

In the city port of Pelargir, the crowded dockside was a hubbub of activity. In the moments before dawn of that day, the wind had started to gather speed, hurrying down the narrow streets in the darkness. With the dawn, a great black cloud was seen to cover the horizon; a mass that seemed a solid wall of shadow, but that nevertheless moved inexorably closer to the city port with every passing hour. As the day wore on, workers on the dock watched as it bore down upon them; and now that the sun was disappearing the blackness seemed more complete and more chilling than mere night. Even the most black-hearted of corsairs felt a shadow creep over them. A ship was seen to emerge from the swirling fog, bearing down upon the port with a terrible speed. It's sails were black and tattered—so much so, that they looked like the webs of giant spiders. Sped on by the unnatural gale from the ocean, it seemed to be pulled into the harbour by invisible ropes, until, almost imperceptibly, the ship slowed as it entered the waters of Pelargir, and an anchor was dropped with a scream of chains. In the gathering duck, even the boldest corsair sis not dare approach the mysterious ship, even as the fog that surrounded it lifted, leaving it lying still in the moonlight.

In the narrow backstreets of Pelargir, one of the many taverns was at the heart of its business; the hours between sunset and when the clientele could no longer stand were generally the most profitable. Generally, but not tonight, because tonight, a slightly gullible barman was being played for all he was worth.

"Show me again," he demanded, slapping another piece onto the bar with a 'thunk'.

The other man drained the last few drops from his tankard in a meaningful and hopeful way, and the barman filled it, almost unconsciously. The customer took it gratefully.

"I dunno mate," he said, "you want to see it again?…Well, alright…maybe one last time."

He picked up the coin, and held it tightly between his forefinger and thumb, holding it up for the barman to see, who watched it intently.

"Well now," the trickster said, his eyes boring into those of the other, "now I take this coin, and—" His fingers became a blur, and the silver piece had become a copper coin. The barman grinned, impressed, and took the coin, turning it over and over in his fingers, admiringly. Outside, a distant thunderclap rolled over the port.

"Well now," the barman chuckled, "I still didn't see how you did that, not a single part of it! You must have learned it from a wizard, or else you know magic-lore. Captain Sparrow, I take my hat of to you."

Jack Sparrow motioned to the copper coin with his tankard. "I tell you what, mate, you can keep that."

The barman looked down at his newly acquired copper piece with pride, Jack emptied his tankard, and made his exit, his pockets considerably heavier than when he went in. Behind him, the barman looked at the coin in his hands, then at the moneybag on his belt. Out on the streets, the rain was pouring down with a ferocious intensity.

Captain Jack Sparrow had been marooned at this strange port for just over a week now, and he was beginning to wonder vaguely how he was going to get back.

It had all started because of that bloody treasure—the treasure of Isla de Muerta. A few days into the voyage; everything going swimmingly, and his first mate Barbossa comes along and asks to know the location of the treasure. Well, it had seemed a good idea at the time. The next thing he knew, it was _himself_ who was swimming—to the only land on the horizon, a desert island.

What a cock up.

A month later, after much effort on his part, he found himself the captain of a leaky rowing boat.

_A rowing boat!_ Him, Captain Jack Sparrow! It was embarrassing to say the least.

Then, a day or so later and on his way to Tortuga, he had found himself drifting in a strange-coloured fog. When the fog cleared, however, it seemed that he'd managed to put into a strange port with the name of 'Pelargir'. Like Tortuga, he'd found, but less rats.

Bloody Bermuda Triangle! Last time he'd go _there._

But, as he'd found already, the benefits of being an unknown here were already apparent. He had no idea where in the Spanish Main he had ended up, but Captain Jack Sparrow never was one to pass up an opportune moment. And, he thought as he ambled through the backstreets of Pelargir, there were many opportunities here.

Jack Sparrow's steps took him to the waterfront, and he swaggered along in the silent moonlight. Suddenly, he stopped. In front of him, looming out of the darkness, was a great dark mass, sitting very still in the water. Jack quickly skirted around a corner, out of sight of the ship. The moonlight was shining very brightly, and lit the docks in a pale light. Carefully, Jack put his head arounf the corner of the building, and scrutinized the ship. His ship; _The Black Pearl. _

Jack took in the black sails, and the weather-worn figurehead. Barbossa, that git. If he was going to betray someone, steal their ship and leave them on a desert island to die, he might at least take better care of the ship…But why was _The Black Pearl_ here? He wondered. There was no way that Barbossa could know he was here; as far as that treacherous weasel was concerned, Jack was rotting on an island somewhere. There was only once answer; _The Black Pearl _had been through the Devil's Triangle as well…

Jack took one last glance at his beloved ship, and then turned away, making his way hurriedly away from the waterside. _That's interesting, _he thought, as he made his way back to his rooms at the _Trollsgate Inn._


	2. Chapter Two

****

Chapter Two

That same evening, in the darkest corner of a crowded tavern, a squat creature, more orc than human, was grovelling.

"Good Sir," he whimpered in a low, submissive whine, "I have watched the strange ship for many hours now, on your command."

The other man, dressed in dark and hidden in shadow, leaned forward eagerly now, his one good eye glittering.

"And?" he questioned in a low voice.

The grovelling creature fidgeted nervously.

"And…nothing, Sir. There is no sign of life there and not one living soul have I seen either going aboard or leaving the ship."

Raffas, master amoung theives, sat back in his chair and his pale eye stared i nto space as he considered. natural predator, he could smell an opportunity the same way a wolf smells a fresh kill. He had scented it as soon as the strange new ship had put into the harbour. Many ships came to that melting pot of a port, many from strange eastern lands, far across the sea, but this ship was unlike any he had seen. And so his spies had been watching _The Black Pearl_ throughout the evening, ordered to report any movement in that dormant ship to him immediately.

"Sit there all night if you have to," he ordered in a soft, dangerous voice, "something like this has to be worth a fortune."

The squat man departed, leaving Raffas to his thoughts.

However, while the minion had been crawling to Raffas, something had slipped ashore in the now moonless night. Two things, in fact, and one of them was chasing its eyeball down the length of the dock.

"Stop messing around!" Pintel growled, hitting his colleague on the head. "We're supposed to be incognito here!"

"What?" Ragetti retrieved his wooden eye and began to screw it back into its socket.

Pintel sighed, sometimes it wasn't easy being the brains in the outfit. "It's where nobody knows who we are."

Ragetti thought for a moment, which was fast for him. "But…we don't know where we are, right?"

"Yeah.The captain said that we're not on any map known to man. It happened when we were in that fog in the Devils triangle."

"So…we don't know where we are?"

"Right"

"So how will anybody know us?"

Pintel stopped and considered for a moment. After a few seconds, he reached a decision.

"Who did the captain put in charge of this mission?"

"You."

"'S right," Pintel rubbed one grubby finger around a black, hairy nostril and flicked the results across the dock. "Me. And so you just do what I say, right?"

"Right" Ragetti sighed, whistfully. He knew his place.

In far off Osgiliath, Faramir was restless. Ever since the sunset, a thick fog had been seen above the far-off city port, Pelargir. There was a distant thunder, but the storm remained fixed on the city, and it was to there that his eyes had been drawn since.Faramir had felt this dread on his soul before; all of Gondor had felt it, when the shadow began to grow over Mordor, and war was iminent. He wondered whether he should potition the king to increase the guard on Osgiliath? Or should he take matters into his own hands, as he should have done before the war? Although the minions of Sauron had been killed or lost to the wilderness, there were many enemies still out there, and the corsairs were the most dangerous. This time, Faramir decided as he pulled his ranger's cloak around him, hiding the white tree embroidered on his uniform, this time he would not stand by and watch his country fall under the shadow. Having handed control of the guard of the city to his leuitenant, he saddled his horse, and prepared himself for the night's ride ahead of him to Pelargir. The stars above him faded into the darkness in the south, and a cool breeze passed him as he turned his back to the Citadel of the Stars and his regiment. The night watch saw his white horse as a silver shadow, a white flame in the darkness as their captain sped into the night, and the unknown.

In the city port that was Faramir's destination, Captain Jack Sparrow, having slept off his drink, was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of his room at the inn, and considering his options. As far as he could tell there were several key points to consider.

1. He had absolutely no idea where he was. For a creature with such a catlike homing instinct as Jack, this was quite a point of annoyance.

2. Wherever he was, the _Pearl _was also here.

3. If he wanted to get back his ship, he would have to face Barbossa at some point.

And there was another thing. Following his escapre from the island, he had heard rumours about the treasure of Isla de Muerta. At first, he hadn't given much thought to the stories of the 'ghost ship' and it's damned crew, but as the rumours spread, he could ignore it no longer, and had begun to wonder a great deal about the so-called 'curse'. It was interesting to say the least, but time would tell as to the truth of the tales...Sparrow made his decision, and swung his legs off the side of the bed. If he was going to act, it had better be sooner, rather than later.

Meanwhile, Pintel and Ragetti had run into a little difficulty. Raffas prowled, catlike, prowled back and forth in front of the hogtied pirates in the flickering candlelight; his long hair hanging over the velvet patch on his eye, and hiding his evil face in shadow. Pintel and Ragetti did their best to look meek unthreatening.

"Well, gentelmen," Raffas sneered, softly, "let's start at the beginning, shall we? Where is it that you come from?"

"I'm from Wapping," Ragetti said, helpfully. Raffas glared at him.

"You are both strangers to Pelargir, this much i know, and you came on the ship that you call _The Black Pearl_. Where do you sail from? Who is your captain?"

"Our last port was Isla de Muerta," Pintal admitted.

"Yeah", Ragetti muttered, "not bloody going there again."

"If you want to talk deals," Pintel suggested, hopefully, "we can take you to Captain Barbossa--he's very big on deals."

"But what could you possibly have that I could want?" Raiis asked.

"Gold!" Ragetti piped up.

"Yeah" Pintel agreed, "we can get you as much gold as you want!"

"And supposing I want more than gold?" Raffas held up the gold medallion he had found on the skinny pirate, the candlelight glinting off it's strange surfaces, "perhaps I wish to know the secret to this strange treasure?"

Ragetti and Pintel looked at each other, nervously.

Raffas drew his sword with a soft hiss. "Well? what are you waiting for?"


	3. Chapter 3

Apologies for the lateness of this update and for the non-being here in general. I have an excuse, I was in Shropshire, where they make 'outsiders' pay four quid an hour for internet acces and _then _tell you that you can't get on their so-called 'computers'. Anyhow I'm back in civilization now so updates will be more frequent.

Usual grudging disclaimers that I own nothing, not even my own washing machine, never mind the characters I am using...But if you say 'yoink' it isn't really stealing is it?

Yoink

Pelargir. A dark, murderous and bloodthirsty port. Where gold was stained with blood, and theives and pirates scuttled like rats, though much more prolific.

In the glow of the orange and green flames from the many lanterns inside and outside the dark buildings, Faramir, shrouded in both shadow and his grey cloak, hiding his face and his uniform in shade, reigned in his horse. Beyond the shadows of houses and inns, at the bottom of the hill, ay the dock, and the strangest ship Faramir had ever seen. Having spent a long time in the wilds of Ithillien, Faramir had seen wild things, and strange allies of The Enemy. This ship was, however, something else.

Unlike the long thin ships of the corsairs that he had hitherto seen, it was higher and broader, the figure of a woman curved into the bow. The sails lack of colour was only enhanced by the darkness, but the deck was empty.

It was just out of sight of the dock, and the Black Pearl, that Jack Sparrow turned a corner and nearly ran straight into two old friends; Ragetti and Pintel, being marched in the direction of the docks by a tall sinister man dressed in black. Jack stopped in mid-Swagger, and whipped around the corner of the house, crashing into someone as he did so.

Faramir, coming the other way, collided with a shaggy man who smelled of drink, smoke and for some reason wet goat. However, before Faramir could react, the pirate had nearly lifted hinm off his feet and slammed him into the wall. A filthy hand was pressed over his mouth, making him gag. Finding he couldn't move, a surprisingly strong arm pinning him down, Faramir caught a glance of his assailant's face in the half-light. Underneath a large hat, a pair of keen dark eyes glittered and Faramir couldn't help but follow his gaze. In the shadows, a group of figures melted into the night.

Only when the night was empty once more did the corsair remove his hand from Faramir's mouth and release his arms, turning away to disappear into the night. Startled at the strange behaviour, Faramir paused, considering.

Ever since his youth, Faramir had been a quiet and thoughtful man and it had served him well. Now Faramir hesitated to act in any way that might endanger his life needlessly. He let the man go, but resolved to follow him, as he made his way down to the waterfront.

Jack Sparrow watched, glaring, as Raiis ushered the two pirates aboard the Black Pearl. Just maybe that nasty character could somehow lure Barbossa of the ship, and then...Of course first of all Jack would have to shake off the boy who was following him. Jack glanced behind him, and the figure ducked behind a wall.

Real Subtle thought Jack, turning back to the ship with a raised eyebrow, but the three men had disappeared.

Jack Rounded a corner and leaned against the grey mortar. As soon as Faramir crept around the corner, the toes on Jack's left boot had him on the floor, clutching his crotch in agony. Faramir felt a blade pressed against his throat, and saw the face of the corsair peering at him in the gloom.

"now while you're down there, just lying around," the pirate slurred, "you may be slightly interested in this sword.It is not a very sharp sword, nor a valuable sword. It isn't even a very pretty sword. But it is pointed directly at your throat, so I suggest you tell me exactly who you are and what your business is with me."

But Jack had underestimated Faramir, who acted fast, and before Jack knew what was going on, he was pressed face first against the wall, a very sharp, very valuable and quite pretty sword pressed to his own neck. His own sword was lying a few feet away, and his arms were pinned to his sides. It was a surprising turn of events.

"Listen to me, corsair" He heard the young man say in a low voice, "I am a soldier of Gondor, and unless you want to know my sword on a much better level I suggest you help me."

"That all depends on what you want, really, doesn't it." Jack said into the stonework.

"What do you know of that ship?"

"What ship?"

Faramir pulled Sparrow's head up so that he could see the Black Pearl clearly.

"Oh, that ship. Havent a clue mate."

"You lie," Faramir growled, "Your dress and your face tell me that if you do not belong to this strange ship you hail from the same land. Where does the ship come from?"

"Well last I knew it was berthed at Isla de Muerta. But now...Your guess is as good as mine.."

Faramir considered for a moment.

"Trust me, corsair, I'm going to make sure you and all those rats aboard that ship go back to where you came from. You have my word on that as the last of the stewards."

Jack blinked. "Alright then."

"What?"

"Well, I was getting bored of this wierd place anyway."

Faramir frowned, wondering if this were a trap to deceive him into trusting this wiley corsair.

"Do you understand?" He demanded "I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you and your crew go back to where you belong."

"Fine" Despite the sword pointed at him, Jack stood up and brushed himself off. "When do we star

Aboard the Black Pearl, Barbossa and Raiis were eyeing each other suspiciously.

"If I were you,"Raiis was saying "I would take this offer of help. You and your crew are strangers here...I am in a position to help you. I have contacts in many cities over Middle Earth. I can get you anything you want...For example..." Here, Raiis smiled with pride, "the kingdom of Gondor has many Traesures, and the city of Osgiliath is the newly-wealthy pearl in the land."

"Is it now?" Barbossa's face gave nothing away. If Jack Sparrow played things close to the vest, Barbossa played with cards you couldn't even see...But he was eager to get home and break this hideous curse, but in his black heart, he was a pirate. The mention of gold could always light a fire in his belly. But he was not going to let this nasty little up-start know that. So instead he stared at the stranger unspeaking, considering his options.

Raiis was eager, savagely so. He had long held a grudge against the men of Gondor, and this new king was decidedly bad for business. Any kind of mischeif was pleasing to Raiis, Osgiliath, the least defended city, was right on the river. Weak, vulnerable, too far from Minas Tirith to easily defend. It had been the weakness in the Great War, and it still was.

Raiis smiled again. If only he could convince Barbossa to sack Osgiliath, it would be a sore blow to the New Kingdom. Mayhem and fear were what Raiis lived on. And by the time Barbossa and his ridiculous crew found that there was nothing in the ruined city worth stealing, he would be lost int eh shadows of Pelargir once more.

Through the ruined archway that was the entrance to Osgiliath, a horse galloped. The rider was cloaked in grey, but as the horse slowed to a walk the hood was thrown back, and a mass of golden hair tumbled free.

Eowyn, the white ladt of Rohan, not the betrothed of the Lord Faramir, dismounted, expert horsewoman that she was.

Too long had she been imprisoned in the court of her duing uncle as he sat dying slowly, rotting from the inside thanks to the poison of Grima Wormtongue. Too long had the sheild-maiden of Rohan been the willing prisoner of her love for the Lord Faramir, in that cold marblr room in the heights of Minas Tirith. Day after day the fields of Pelennor, which held such bitter memories, streching out before her to the far horizon. But as she stared through the bars of her sweet prison, she beheld Osgiliath, and it's spires, from here it seemed they were touched by no evil. There her love lay, perhaps he was staring toward Minas Tirith at that moment, and they were seperated by nothing more than shadow and mist, nothing more. But this at least, could be remedied. And so it was that Eowyn saddled hermare, drew a grey mantle about her, and fled into the night.

"Gone where?"

The heroic soldier, standing over six feet in his armour was young, but had battled through the Great War with courage. He had even faced the Black Gates with determination. But all this was nothing compared to the steely, unblinking gaze of the Lady of Gondor. He gulped, trying to find words to lighten the situation.

"Oh", he said, in what he hoped was a casual tone, "he just went off to have a...um...look at...um...Pelargir..."

Eowyn's eyes were boring into his. "Pelargir." She said, in tones that would freeze flame. "How many men did he take?"

"Uh..." The seargent began to sweat, depite the cold eyes that were on him. "He thought perhaps it was better if he was inconspicuous...you know, the less disturbance the...um...better"

After one final 'um' he faltered into silence.

To be continued...trite but true.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own nothing and any stories you hear were lies I tell you, lies...

"this was a somewhat ill-conceived plan," Faramir muttered through his teeth as he clung to the side of the ship, the dark water below lapping at the side of the vessel.

Jack rolled his eyes.

The ledge that ran the length of the ship was big enough for a grown man to stand on...Just...Well, almost. As long as the man in question didn't plan on moving a lot and wasn't bothered by the idea of an impromptu swim. Jack idly wondered how boyant Faramir's armour was.

"Listen," Jack sighed, "if I know Barbossa--and believe me I do, he'll be wanting to line hos pockets with as much as he can, before he leaves and that is really not good news for you lot." _Plus _he added in his own mind, _if Barbossa has found a way back, I want to know about it._

The light from the captain's cabin on the Pearl shone flame on the surface of the black water far below. The mist had lifted slightly and the moon was just visible. Barbossa's voice was muffled, but still audible in the still night.

"Osgiliath, ye say? Well thats very interesting mister, but may I ask what your business is with me? What is it that you get from me sacking the city?"

Raiis' voice had a sneering, self-important air to it.

"My good sir," he oozed, "an entrepeneur such as myself is always happy to find new opportunities. The new king of Gondor is...shall we say...bad for my business."

"Osgiliath?" Faramir breathed, "those devils!"

"Quite." Jack muttered, raising his eyebrow.

"I've had enough" Faramir hissed, "I have to return to the city to warn them and to support a strengthened garrison."

Jack hissed "No! not yet!" but Faramir was making his way back towards the gangplank, via which they had got to the ship. He was undoubtedly very young, agile and very coreageous, but he hadn't seen what Jack had seen. His old friends, Ragetti and Pintel, crouched on the gangplank watching Faramir as below he unwittingly moved into the moonlight. At least, Jack thought, they _looked _like Ragetti and Pintel, but there was something different about them. They looked a lot thinner for a start...

* * *

Eowyn, passing the docks, had seen the man on the ship also, and after just a few heartbeats, knew that it was Faramir. She had also seen the two pirates on the gangplank, waiting for him. But she was still to far away to help, and her cry would not have carried, and if it had may only have made matters worse. She watched helpless, therefore, as the pirates leaned over, one grabbing Faramir's arm, the other hiting him methodically over the head. His unconscious form was dragged onto the gangplank and slowly onto the ship.

* * *

Jack pulled himself onto the quay, sea water running off him. Sitting on the side, legs hanging over the side, he fished around hopefully inside his wet clothing and triumphantly withdrew a silver flask, still filled with good old Carribean rum. He took a large swig and stared pondorously at the lights of The Pearl. Shame about the kid, but it was hardly Jack's fault. He had told him to be careful...In fact, Jack clearly remembered telling him...but the boy had definately not listened. It was really unfortunate, that the boy hadn't chosen his friends more carefully, but that wasn't Jacks problem. Jack would survive. Good old Jack. The flask was empty. Jack lifted it and peered into the small black hole. Not a drop left for poor old Jack...Ah well, give it time, and he'd be home again and then...All the rum he could drink. There was an itchiness in his ear, and he fished around in the orifice with a finger until he located a hermit crab that had abandoned its shell in favour of the new, promising location of Jack's earlobe.

"Bugger off," he flicked the defenceless shellfish back into the sea with a 'plop', and set about clearing seaweed off his coat, when he was suddenly inconvenienced for the second time that night. A sword was pushed into his back and a low voice said, in no uncertain terms. "If you don't want to know the colour of your entrails, Pirate, I suggest you think very carefully about how you are going to help me get my betrothed back."

Looking behind him...very slowly, and saw a pale face, in which two bright eyes burned like pools of dark fire in the night. This person wasn't like the kid...She meant business.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: **Usual stuff, don't own, wish I did. Just borrowing characters and worlds for light-hearted fun._

_Getting a bit into the swing of things now the story's going and I have more time on my hands thanks to everyone who has reviewed I am very grateful and I hope I shall not disappoint._

**Chapter 5**

"But what do we want him for?"

Faramir awoke to the sound of a conversation being conducted over his head. He wisely kept his eyes shut.

In the bowels of the ship, the air was musky and stale. It smelled of death, decay and time passing; Wood and salt water, and the smell of a vessel that even the rats had abandoned. It smelled of a thousand apples that had long ago gone rotten, and were turning slowly to dust.

Pintel chuckled, "this fellow's here for a little word with the Captain," he explained. "Barbossa don't like it when people try to get on his ship without permission…and my bet is that it's something to do with that one-eyed one. The captain ain't going to like this at all."

Ragetti sighed wistfully, "It's been ages since we had a proper drowning, you know. The old plank's been neglected too long." He patted the long plank lovingly, "ever since old 'Bootstrap' bought it."

"Don't you worry, friend," Pintel assured him, smiling nastily, "this one here's for the plank, you mark my words…"

Faramir hear another man enter. His voice was thick with an accent Faramir didn't recognise. "You two, on deck now and make ready the anchor. The captain says we leave with the dawn tide."

"Looks like our drowning won't be tonight then mate, you and old Polly'll have to wait for your fun."

Laughing evilly they left the cabin. Behind his closed eyelids, Faramir heard the door shut, and a key turn in the lock.

In the highest tower in Minas Tirith, The Queen looked out over the kingdom. Her face was pale in the evening light, but still it held a shining light. Not for naught was she called 'Evenstar'. And she was the grand-daughter of Galadriel the fair, who even now was making ready to journey to the west. Also was she the daughter of Elrond, whose sight also passed through space and time. The gifts bestowed upon her as a child of the Eldar had almost passed away, and with the last of her kin, so they would diminish. But still, in this late hour, she sensed the disturbance that was in the air, far away, by the sea. Something had been disturbed. Something was rotten in Gondor…

Jack tried bargaining. This was tricky in most situations, considering he generally had nothing anyone in their right mind would want, and was especially difficult when a sword was pressed against one's throat. If his captor hadn't been so incredibly beautiful he might have minded. But, charming to the last, Jack smiles in what he thought was his most charming way, and began to answer all of her questions as best he could.

"Well, the thing is, miss, that your 'betrothed' and myself were working together on this…Your boy wanted to know what dastardly deeds the crew of this mysterious ship were planning, and so he hired me to so with him."

Eowyn wasn't gullible.

"He hired you?" She said, her voice flat. "He hired you, a pirate a murderous thieving rogue to _help _him?"

Jack shrugged as much as he dared without actually beheading himself, "When in Rome, love…"

Eowyn narrowed her eyes, and Jack pulled out his trump card.

"Of course, I can't wait until he's back on dry land again…He didn't pay me for a start, but also to make sure his plan worked…"

"Plan?" Eowyn asked, suspiciously, "what plan?"

"Oh well it was his idea, um….sorry, do you mind?" He pushed the sword away with a delicate finger, it moved, but not by much. "His plan was, see, that he should _let _himself get captured in order to lean of the enemy's plans, which incidentally," he leaned conspiratorially closer, "involve going into Gondong…"

"Gondor?"

"That's the one, and looting everything they find, and trust me…That ship is not going to be beaten lightly. Nasty buggers on there, they are" _I know because I hired them…_

Behind them, the eastern sky was growing lighter, the moon had gone and dawn was near. Eowyn still looked doubtful. She could imagine Faramir risking his own safety for the good of his country, he had done it before, after all, but the idea of Faramir teaming up with a pirate was just unthinkable. But before she could ask her next question, there was activity on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, and jack pushed her into the shadows.

They watched the pirates running two and fro like worker ants. Eowyn watched them, her heart beating fast.

"What are they doing?" She asked.

"Making ready the ship," Jack said, grimly. "They're preparing the ship to sail with the next tide." He turned to her. "How fast can we get back to your place to warn them?"

Eowyn thought, "it took me the better part of the night to get here," she said, "and there'll be two of us."

Jack raised his eyebrow, "really?" he oozed, all charm and charisma. Eowyn was far from impressed, however.

"I'm sure you'll ride better with both of your arms, so don't make me remove one."

"Ah…right. I get your point."

They reached the point where Eowyn had left her horse. And then they wandered to the left a bit. And then to the right. When They eventually reached the point at which they had started, Jack said, with as much irritation as he dared show, "Are you _certain _you left it here?"

Eowyn looked around in annoyance. "I left her right here, I tell you! She was tied securely and besides, she would never leave without me!"

"Right…" Jack rolled his eyes. It was _always_ the same. Why could women never remember where they had left their mode of transport?

"No, Really!" Eowyn cried, desperately, "Look, Faramir's horse was here too, and they're both missing, someone must have taken them!"

"I don't think the horses are the only thing that's missing love…." Jack began, but he was interrupted by an 'ahem' behind them. They turned to see a portly man with a beard like a badger and a certain rosy glow that suggested more than merely fresh air.

"I couldn't but overhear your conversation, and your predicament," he ventured, "And it's frightful bad luck to lose a horse, it is….So could I interest you in one of mine?"

He was holding the reigns of two very familiar horses.

"Those are _our _horses!" Eowyn shouted.

The man looked over the beasts thoughtfully, "well now, I don't see as how you'd think that….I've had these horses for as long as I can remember, I have."

"Of that I have no doubt," Jack said, solemnly. "What's your name, good sir?"

"Gibbs, sir" The horse dealer smiled amicably, "finest horse dealer in all of Middle-Earth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Usual stuff, don't own, wish I did. Just borrowing characters and worlds for light-hearted fun.

Getting a bit into the swing of things now the story's going and I have more time on my hands, even though this is a bit short, appologies!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed (esp Rosie for all the support-whipping!). I am very grateful and I hope I shall not disappoint.

**Chapter 6**

"A friend of yours, Mr Raiis?"

Barbossa was staring intently at the thief as Faramir glared over the top of the gag. Raiis looked at the young Lord in surprise without speaking for a few minutes. In the darkest corner of the room, Ragetti and Pintel chuckled darkly and sharpened their knives with chalk covered cloths. They were men who took stabbing very, very seriously, and the fact that they were hundreds of years from home was no excuse to let standards slip. At their feet, the white dust drifted onto the boards like snow on a clear night.

Eventually, Raiis turned his one good eye to Barbossa.

"Captain," he said, huskily, the excitement betrayed only by the barest quiver in his voice, "you have just pulled an Ace from the pack."

"What are you blabbering about?" Barbossa snapped. He was getting irritable with this strange country, and the presence of this one-eyed character was doing nothing to cheer him up. When Barbossa got irritable, people got hurt, he made sure of that.

"This man, my friend Barbossa, is none other than Lord Faramir himself!"

Ragetti and Pintel looked at each other, "who?"

"I'd know that face anywhere, " Raiis continued, "the last time I saw it was at the siege of Osgiliath…"

It had been Raiis who had betrayed the city of Osgiliath to it's enemies. He had guided the orcs to the weakest part in its defence—the Eastern side, accessable only by the river.

Hidden in shadow in the boat and surrounded by the mutilated forms of the orcs, he showed them the way to the least guarded portion of the city, and so ensured its downfall. He was there when the orcs had driven the men back to Minas Tirith with cruel spears and swords. He had watched as the orcs set to work in hacking the heads from their fallen victims, some still breathing even as their necks were hewn like trees. And he had been watching from the ruins as the last, hopeless, charge had failed; Men and horses cut down like grass. The last survivor, Faramir, dragged back to Minas Tirith by his horse, driven half-mad with terror and the stench of blood. And now that same dying figure stood before him. The thief's one eye glittered.

* * *

"How _dare _you!" Eowyn was furious. Fair and pale she may be, but when she was angry, she could have frozen Mount Doom itself. "How _dare _you try to sell my own horse back to me? Do you even know who I am?" she demanded, waving a finger in the chubby face of the impromptu horse-dealer, who watched her, patiently.

"Fiesty, ain't she" he said cheerfully to Jack.

"You have no idea," the pirate replied, gloomily.

"Look, miss," Gibbs said, pleasantly, "I tell you what, it's a cold night out there and no-one wants to stand around in this dismal black. So I'll only charge you half."

Jack, anxious to avoid a scene, nodded vigorously, "that seems fair!"

"More than fair!" Gibbs agreed, but Eowyn was in full swing. She drew herself up to her full height, and her voice grew imperious. Jack put his hand over his eyes.

"I'll have you know that I am Eowyn, daughter of Theoden and sister to the Eomer, king of Rohan! I fought in the Great Battle of Pellenor Fields! I slew the Witch-King of Angmar and his beast! And I demand that you return my horse to me this instant or you will be the one to pay!"

Mr Gibbs smiled and was about to say something, when another strange man stepped out into the clearing from the dark bushes. All three looked at him. His face was a mass of scars, and he wore a blood-red scarf around his head.

"Well, well," he said, "The famous Lady Eowyn." He drew a crossbow. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Jack looked at Gibbs. "Is that one of yours?"

Gibbs shook his head, his plump cheeks flapping. The new-comer gave a signal, and a dozen other men stepped from the bushes, each holding a weapon.

"Ah" Jack said, "perfect. Just perfect."

The scarred man moved his eyes over to Gibbs.

"Gibbs….What have you found here then?" Before Gibbs' garbles could make sense, the man continued.

"I thought you'd skipped town, Gibbsey. I was a little worried that you had forgotten that little matter of your debt. Perhaps you remember now? Or maybe…" he drew a long, curved knife from his coat, "maybe you need a little…persuasion?..."

"NNNot at all, sir," Gibbs stammered, sweating, "what happened was…..what happened was…I was just in the middle of a daring horse-raid, in order to pay my debt to you…."

He realised that everyone was staring at him, and cleared his throat, nervously. "And so…doing this…horse-raid, I was unfortunately caught by these two fierce warriors…" He fell into silence, hopefully.

"Ah, Gibbsey," the man said, "you have found us something better than horses…"

"I have?" Gibbs frowned.

"Oh yes," the crossbow turned to Eowyn. "The betrothed of Lord Faramir. She'll fetch a high price…to the right buyer…"

Whatever he was about to say next never came. It's hard to speak when a woman of Rohan punches you in the mouth so hard you think your eyes will explode.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **

Usual stuff. I own nothing...and I mean nothing, not even a rug. Woo its all going violently!

**Chapter 7**

Jack watched, stunned. He had known many women in his time (One, appropriately named 'May' which had been short for 'Mayhem', had once offered to fight a bar full of men who didn't take her seriously as a pirate. What she'd done to them had been……memorable.)

But Eowyn was something else. You just didn't expect such a slim, lovely girl to punch like that!

As if in slow motion, the fist connected with the mouth. The man looked surprised as he staggered back and fell over into the grass.

'She's going to be killed!' Jack thought, 'she's going to be killed and then they're going to notice _me_, and then _I'm_ going to be killed!' There was only one thing for it.

Jack turned, drawing his sword, and stabbed the man closest to him. The man crumpled without a sound.

Jack grabbed Gibbs' collar, facing him nose to nose.

"Alright mate, you'd better know how to fight because if you let her get killed…well…she'll never forgive you for a start, and then you'll have to face me next, savvy?"

It took Gibbs only a few moments to make a life-saving calculation that life on Jack's side would be better, easier, less deadly and above all _longer _than life against him. He grinned feeling, perhaps, a change in the wind. "You got it mate!"

The real fight began.

Eowyn, having grown up with no mother or sisters, had never been told what 'nice girls' should do, or how to behave like a 'lady'. She had been taught how to fight like a man until she was old enough to be taught not to. But for all the years spent in a dress, playing faithful niece and nurse to an old man, her frustration and anger boiled underneath the icy surface. She had an advantage over men in battle, who didn't expect her to fight as well as any of them. As she dispatched another bandit, she was vaguely aware of Gibbs in the background, bowling a man over so that he was easier to hit, and Jack over her other shoulder, leaping around like a dancer.

In a few minutes, it was over. Only the chief bandit, with an already swollen lip, was left. He looked around him at his departed comrades, and up at Jack, Eowyn and Gibbs, then up at the sky.

"Alright," he said, "let's make a deal."

Eowyn pointed her sword at him.

"It's a little late for that."

"Waitwaitwaitwait! I can help you!"

"How?"

"I know you need horses, right? I can get horses, and…um…look, I tell you what—I'll even travel with you, there are dangerous bandits on the roads these days…"

"And how would you be of help to us?"

"They're my bandits!" The man said, lisping slightly, "If I'm there with you I can guarantee your safety!"

Eowyn, however, wasn't in the mood to make a deal, "So you can sell us out to your own men? I think not…"

Jack stepped forward, coughing politely.

"Um…If I may, M'lady?" He turned to the bandit. "We are riding with the river to recover the Black Pearl….Amongst other things," he waved his hand dismissively.

"The what?" The bandit's scarred brow furrowed.

"The strange ship that arrived a few days ago."

"Oh yes, _everyone _knows that ship."

"Well, we're going after it. If you help us then your reward with be beyond measure." 'At least', Jack thought, 'I'm not lying about that….'

The bandit's eyes glittered with the promise of riches. "Reward, eh? Well, I'm your man!"

"Don't trust him!" Gibbs growled, "he's a cheat an' a thief!"

"This coming from a horse-rustler?" Jack muttered back. Gibbs opened his mouth to reply…and kept it open while he tried to think of a reply.

"I have always said, m'lady," Jack continued aloud, "that a dishonest man you can always trust…even if it only to be dishonest. What say you, bandit?"

"Absolutely!" The bandit replied, knowing exactly which side his bread was buttered.

"Surely you are not proposing that we take him with us?" Eowyn glared at Jack, warning in her voice.

"It's alright," said Jack cheerfully, "I'll swear him in!" He cleared his throat.

"Do you, bandit, swear loyalty to the Lady Eowyn and myself through darkness and danger, facing hardship, toil, mortal danger and almost certain death?"

"Um…_Almost _certain" The bandit asked, nervously.

"I now pronounce you," Jack went on, proudly, "a pirate!"

A breeze swept through the bushes.

"All alright?" Jack looked around, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. "good, let's…"

"What about me?" Gibbs asked.

"What about you?"

"Well I'm not letting him be a bloody pirate if I'm not a bloody pirate!"

Jack sighed, "Oh fine, do you, Gibbs…All of the above?"

"Aye!" Gibbs beamed proudly.

"Fine, now shall we get on?"

"What about our names?" The bandit asked.

"What?"

"Aye, ee's right, sir," Gibbs nodded wisely, "Every pirate has to have a piratey name, everyone knows that!"

Jack looked blank. His imagination left much to be desired. Cunning and guile he had in spades, but imagination was something else.

"Fine….you—" he pointed to the bandit, "you are now known as…."He racked his brains for all the pirate names he knew, and clutched at the first out of the hat.

"…Polly." He said, decisively.

"Polly?" The other three echoed the strange alien word.

"Yep. That's it. Polly."

"What does it mean?" The bandit asked.

"It means blood-drinker of his enemies." Jack explained without so much as a blink.

Polly rubbed his chin with one dinner-plate sized hand, producing a sound like two pieces of sandpaper making love.

"Pol-ly" he tried, rolling the strange syllables around his mouth, "hmm….I like it."

"What about me?' Gibbs asked quickly, but Jack's imagination was dry.

"You are now known as..._Mister _Gibbs."

Gibbs puffed out his chest proudly.

"And just what is _your_ name, pirate?" Eowyn asked, still eyeing him suspiciously.

Captain Jack Sparrow!" Jack bowed low, sweeping his ragged hat off his head smoothly.

"Where's your ship?" Polly asked.

Jack sheathed his sword. "let's go and get it."


End file.
